


Away from the World

by victorianvirgil



Series: 12 Days of Christmas (2018) [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, M/M, Snowball Fight, modern day AU, my god this is my fave, they have a cabin together in New Hampshire, they met in the late 50s and have loved each other ever since, they're both old and have spent their entire lives together, this is the most domestic thing I have ever written, virgil was a musician and roman was a model
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 00:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil
Summary: Roman and Virgil have lived along life together, sixty-one years after meeting in 1956 and getting together in 1957. The two have lived full lives as partners, supporting one another in his career but knowing that their relationship must remain a secret. Nearly twenty years passed since they were outed and the world finally learned of their love, but they reside in a private cabin in New Hampshire to avoid being harassed. And yet their love for one another remains the same, even if Virgil's body is deteriorating and Roman's back has been hurting for years, because the first snowfall of the season reveals to them all over again just how much they love each other.





	Away from the World

The darkness didn’t subside when Roman awoke, lashes brushing against the smooth skin his entire body was pressed against. With a small groan, he managed to untangle his limbs from those of his lover and Virgil, still unconscious, attempted to move with him in order keep Roman close. But he managed to escape, pressing a loving kiss onto Virgil’s forehead before walking into the kitchen. The other didn’t follow, too tired these days to rise with the sun as he once had.

They had a modest house, modest for their past at least. Virgil has been a rather successful musician, and Roman a model who still made infrequent appearances on the runway despite the many, many years that had passed since he had been in his prime. But all they had wanted was a small cottage in New Hampshire, close enough to the mountains so Roman could easily make trips to the mountains to ski and - years ago, when he still could - Virgil to snowboard. But the house had been bought after a long life of hiding, after forty years of their love carefully cloaked from the cruel world. Until they had been discovered and outed in the 90's alongside many other celebrities, many fans burning Virgil’s records or Roman’s posters and magazines in retaliation.

And in retaliation of his own, Virgil had bought the New Hampshire cabin. For their forty-third anniversary, in honor of watching the centuries change, he had finally given it to Roman and announced it to the world.

They had been vocal activists for their community ever since, donating thousands of dollars every year to help LGBT youth. They considered the faceless children as their own seeing as they hadn’t been in a position to have any. They hadn’t even been able to get married, now finding the ceremony worthless. It was something they had fought for, but to give other men and women what they hadn’t had the chance to have. They were content with their way of life, rather pleased with it, in fact.

The floor tiles were cool beneath the soles of Roman’s feet and he hummed quietly to himself, yawning and running his fingers through his gray hair before his gaze flickered to the fresh snow coating his front yard, driveway, and one of the few inexpensive cars that didn’t fit in their garage. But he didn’t scowl at the thought of having to wipe off his car, nor did he believe the task was beneath him. All he could think about was the snow.

The first of the year.

A small smile spread across his lips as he moved to the cupboards to grab a box of cereal. He hadn’t cooked a day in his life and he certainly would not start anytime soon. If Virgil wants pancakes or anything of that nature, he’d have to make them himself. Roman wanted to be quick so he could hit the slopes, damning his back that had been aching for years now. He refused to admit to being a day over forty, claiming that his eyes and smiles were ageless.

When Virgil once countered that other things most certainly weren’t, Roman’s pride had taken a hit and he stopped saying such things.

But regardless, as he munched on his Honey Nut Cheerios, he couldn’t peel his gaze from the window. Despite having lived in the northern state for nearly twenty years, the first snow of a year still took his breath away. It was more beautiful than anything he could describe, and he felt his hammering heart in his chest as anticipation got the better of him. He could practically taste the slopes, in which his partner claimed he was far too old for.

 _The mountains have been here for far longer,_ he had once countered, _I fit right in._

Virgil had threatened to throw him off the mountain, then, and Roman had stuck his tongue out in response.

A hand brushed his shoulder, stirring Roman from his thoughts but not startling him. He had gotten used to Virgil’s touches years ago, back when the year 2019 sounded like a year of an alien invasion rather than something days away.

“Morning,” he whispered, still shoveling his spoon of cereal into his mouth. Virgil’s finger trailed down his shoulder, tracing the places where definitions due to muscle had been all those years ago. Roman turned his head after swallowing, allowing for his lips to brush against Virgil’s cracked knuckles before his focus returned to his bowl.

“Morning, princey,” Virgil replied, the nickname no longer an insult - as it had been in ‘56 - or even hardly one of endearment - as it had become after that - but more habit. While it was said lovingly, Roman was so used to hearing it that it hardly had any affect on him.

“Sleep well?” he asked while chewing, feeling the warmth in his shoulder fade as the other filled the kettle with water and heated up the stove. To make oatmeal, the old bastard.

“Like a baby.”

Roman nodded in turn, knowing that his partner hadn’t seen the action but not particularly caring. He didn’t have to see to know that Roman had heard, to know the other had tucked the information away into a corner of his mind. He had slept well, that was good.

“I’m fine, you know,” Virgil said after a moment of silence, the wheels of his chair humming as he moved across the floor to grab almonds from a low cupboard, “your worrying is unnecessary.”

And when Roman looked up, he indeed saw a strong, independent man staring back at him. Or at least, that’s when he saw upon looking into the other’s eyes, a sturdy, unwavering steel. But then his eyes traveled lower, gazing upon the wheelchair that he once believed a cage, that his lover was nothing more than a rabbit in a snare.

The chair wasn’t a cage though, but merely a replacement for the legs his cancer had taken from him. He was still the man he had fallen in love with, chair or no, and Roman was ashamed of the years it had taken for him to realize that.

“I worry about everything, baby,” Roman countered, tilting his head back and swallowing the milk in his bowl before wiping his lips with the back of his hand and standing up. He rinsed his bowl in the sink as he continued, “I worry about the world beyond our house, the political climate of our country, of the direction music is heading in, what comes after death, how are friends are, and about my own body failing to keep me young and beautiful despite my efforts to sacrifice babies in order to keep myself alive forever in the 70's. So I can worry about you too, I’m _allowed_ to worry about you.”

Virgil raised a brow, grabbing a clean bowl from one of the lower cupboards and pouring the oatmeal in as he waited for the kettle. “But you do so too much, don’t spend the last few years of our life together worrying about how short it’s going to be.”

“That’s incredibly dark,” Roman replied, and had it been thirty, forty, fifty years ago, he would have gaped at him.

“Oh, but it’s my specialty,” the other said and Roman laughed, grinning from ear to ear as the kettle’s scream interrupted their conversation.

Virgil tended to it, and Roman said, “I don’t pity you, my love. Never did, never will. You’ll be on your deathbed and I’ll nag you about not putting the dishes away.”

“Well that was incredibly dark for you,” Virgil mused, pouring the water into his bowl and carefully wheeling himself to the table. Roman knew better than to touch his chair or try to help him, knowing that Virgil was more than capable enough to tend to himself.

“I learned from the best,” Roman replied, leaning down with a grin to kiss the top of Virgil’s head. “You didn’t have to get up for me though, I don’t plan on staying home long.”

Virgil snorted, “I didn’t get up for you, dumbass. While Your Highness most certainly believes that my every move and waking thought is geared towards pleasing you, I can assure you that that is not the case.”

And Roman believed it, the words not stinging a bit as he continued to grin.

“It snowed last night.”

A quick look to the window before Virgil nodded, “Indeed it did.”

“I was thinking about heading out, supplies running low.”

A joke they had, Roman once comparing their secluded cabin to a zombie apocalypse bunker. Twenty years and the joke still brought smiles to their lips.

“I’ll dutifully wait for your return, and then I’ll lay on my back and allow for you to make love to me all through the night.”

“If you aren’t asleep by seven-thirty after you finish your daily crossword puzzle.”

“Sunset is at four and you will be home long before then, so three and a half hours of sweet love making will suffice, I think.”

Roman kissed him again, a peck on the cheek, “Everything you want on the list?”

He grabbed it from its low position on the fridge, leaving the music note magnet as his fingers brushed over the paper.

“It should all be on there, I need you to pick up some medication though. And a gift would be nice.”

“The occasion?”

“A random declaration of love in order to keep the fire in our relationship alive. God knows that sex isn’t doing that anymore.”

Roman playfully shot him a glare, unable to hide the twitch in the corner of his lips that betrayed him.

But they didn’t need sex, hadn’t in years now. Virgil’s gentle touches were enough, his skin no longer electric but a soothing warmth, and while his smiles no longer shattered Roman’s soul, they filled him up better than sex ever had. His presence was all Roman needed, all he wanted.

“I’ll book us a hotel, a getaway from our getaway. And there, I swear to make love to you, oh beautiful man.”

“Good, now get out.”

Roman feigned wounded for a moment before walking out of the room, a gleam in his eyes similar to what Virgil had seen all through their youth. As they aged, eyes crinkling and skin wrinkling, he had never seen that sparkle fade. It was one of the infinite things he loved about him, would continue loving until his last breath.

He listened to Roman pull on his outerwear in their mudroom, drumming the fingertips of his free hand against the wooden table as he ate his breakfast in peace. Alone but content, just as he and Roman were away from the world and in no one’s company but their own.

-

Patton had called Roman while he was in the car on the way home, groceries piled in the backseat and a bouquet of roses resting in the passenger’s seat. He had his phone on speaker, chatting with his old friend and hardly looking when he pulled into his driveway. He stepped out of the car, gaze averted and a smile on his lips as he shut the door behind him and turned to open the backseat to grab the groceries.

Suddenly, a ball of snow collided with the back of his head, instantly dampening his hair and slipping down his neck.

He froze mid-sentence, taking a breath and saying a quick goodbye to Patton before pocketing his phone and spinning on his heel, taking the second snowball to the face.

His nose scrunched and when Virgil’s taunting laughter finally reached his ears, he quickly wiped the snow away from his face to see his partner seated on the steps of their house, a tower of snowballs composed and ready. In front of him was a wall, one that he strained to look over in order to reveal himself to his partner.

“Think you still got it in you, old man?” he called out, the challenge one Roman would never back away from. Another glance told him that Virgil’s chair was inches away, close enough for him to grasp if need be.

So in response, Roman crouched down and rolled snow into his bare hand that had already reddened from his exposure to the cold.

“I think so,” he replied while launching the first one, a grin on his lips as the battle begun.

Sixty-one years together, and nothing changed, it seemed. Virgil was still a playful bastard, and Roman was still one never to back down from a challenge. Their bodies were wearing down, but the smiles on their lips continued to reign, and the infinite love pouring from their souls was unparalleled by any other couple in the entire world.

And from the look they gave one another, both armed with yet another snowball, they both knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guus!
> 
> ngl, this might be my favorite christmas/winter au yet!!!
> 
> I know christmas is over, I mean, it may be june of 2023 for you but as I write this, christmas was two days ago and 2019 is a few days away. that's pretty exciting!!! my birthday is on new year's day and I'm going to new york to watch the ball drop but HOPEFULLY I'll get a chance to post the last fic (mac and I have a schedule, we know who's posting when to finish this off).
> 
> thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed  
> -ronnie


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